


Twisted By Knaves To Make a Trap For Fools

by extradimensional



Series: If— [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extradimensional/pseuds/extradimensional
Summary: Fenris had hesitated on the step as the Arishok finally died, waiting for the brute to get up again. It delayed his movement just enough to miss catching Hawke, who ended up in a crumpled pile on the ground. He turned Garrett over as gently as he could, but Fenris generally wasn’t a gentle person.But the fear, the fear that he won’t find a heartbeat, was enough to force his movements to be soft.
Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke
Series: If— [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750987
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85





	Twisted By Knaves To Make a Trap For Fools

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when this was a prompt that like 20 people filled 9 years ago? No? Perfect.

He’s fucked. 

As soon as he agreed to the duel, Hawke _knew_ he was fucked. Sure, Garrett had confidence in himself but a mage against a two handed weapon, in one on one combat, in a closed off room was stupid. So stupid. He could see Fenris thought the same, even if he had been the one to bring up the challenge to the Arishok. Those green eyes burned holes into the back of Hawke’s skull as soon as the fight began.

_I’m sorry if I die._

_I’m an arsehole and I love you._

_Please don’t be too cross when this goes badly._

The whole time Hawke was thinking of apologies. Even when he got a good blow in before trying to throw space between him and the Qunari, even when he gave chase in an attempt for his mana to restore just the smallest amount. Even when he was scooped up off the floor and impaled, healing himself so shittily as he went that Anders was going to ring his neck if he survived. 

It went on and on, but the only way he could win this was to drag it out: throw damage out when he could, distract when he couldn’t, and wear the Arishok down. If it dragged his own death out, then so be it. 

By the end, when Hawke was coughing up blood and his knees were buckling beneath his weight, he threw out one last ice spell. By some grace of the Maker, the Qunari stopped dead in his tracks and hovered for a few seconds before tumbling face forward onto the ground. The hall was silent and reeked of blood. 

Hawke laughed. 

He laughed and his body abruptly gave out. 

———————❖———————

Fenris had hesitated on the step as the Arishok finally died, waiting for the brute to get up again. It delayed his movement just enough to miss catching Hawke, who ended up in a crumpled pile on the ground. 

He turned Garrett over as gently as he could, but Fenris generally wasn’t a gentle person. But the fear, the fear that he won’t find a heartbeat, was enough to force his movements to be soft. There was so much blood. Too much blood. Enough that he can’t even tell where the bleeding is coming from, where to apply pressure to stop it. His hands hovered, _shaking._ But that must be folly because his hands never shake. 

“Fenris—”

He ignored the voice, fingers curling over Hawke’s heart.

“ _Fenris!_ Let me see. Please.” Anders was next to him now, kneeling on the cool marble. Sticky with Hawke’s blood. Hawke, who had been laughing just that morning when they woke up in bed about something so trivial. 

Normally he despised whenever the mage tagged along, but now he couldn’t say that. He quietly withdrew his hands, now damp in red, and watched as they were quickly replaced with Anders’. Aveline was keeping onlookers far away, but Fenris saw her head whip around at the healer’s not very quiet “ _Shit.”_

Hawke surprisingly squirmed as if the word had summoned him from unconsciousness and suddenly Fenris had something to do with his hands again. He braced them on each of Garrett’s shoulders. 

“Don’t you dare move, Hawke. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” Anders sighed, mana flowing through his fingers in even strokes. 

“How bad?” Fenris managed to ask.

“Where should I even begin? The most pressing thing is the blood loss and internal bleeding. We need to get him home or to my clinic. The Clinic would be preferable but it’s too far. Aveline,” she looked up at her name. “Could you please run to Darktown and get my medical kit? We’ll bring Hawke back to his house and I’ll work on him there. He won’t make it otherwise.” 

With a nod, she was off. 

Fenris didn’t need any instruction as he managed to pull himself off the ground, trying to think of the best way to carry Hawke without causing more pain. 

Garrett Hawke had had enough of that today. 

———————❖———————

He stayed in the room while Anders worked. It wasn’t the smartest idea, considering how suddenly possessive he was feeling, but leaving Hawke to face this alone, to possibly die without holding Fenris’ hand, was too much to fathom. 

And Anders didn’t initially say it, but Fenris had been around enough dying people in his lifetime to know when it was a lost cause. If it had been anyone less stubborn than Hawke, he would have told Anders not to waste the mana. 

The first bout of healing, the new ‘Champion’ didn’t move at all. From what Fenris gathered, that was mostly Anders stopping the bleeding. The mage looked like he was about to faint afterwards. 

The second round of healing, done after everyone had rested for a little while (except Fenris, because how could he possibly sleep when Hawke might not be there when he woke?), may have been less taxing for Anders, but the same couldn’t be said for Hawke. There was little use of magic and more ample uses of needles stitching flesh back together. Fenris didn’t quite understand why some flesh wounds could be fixed with spells but others couldn’t, yet he could see where healing would be considered interesting if the patient being knit back together wasn’t his lover-type person. 

Nearly as soon as Anders started, Hawke gasped and feebly tried wiggling away. His eyes flew open at Fenris’ cool touch but those normally sharp brown eyes looked dulled and frightened, like a child waking up in a strange place. 

“Garrett, still yourself,” Fenris whispered, his tone curt. 

A wave of understanding stared back at him. Understanding of who _he_ was, not what was happening.

“ _Fen?_ —Hurts.” 

Fenris tried his best to hold him still, to calm him. His bare fingers cupping the other’s cheek. “I know. But you have to let Anders fix you.” 

That must be enough to jog his memory of the recent events as Hawke tried to touch where the Arishok’s blades had repeatedly stabbed him, only to have his hands pulled away from the wound. “Am I dying?” he said it in utter surprise at first, like he didn’t think it possible. Then he repeated himself, this time his gaze pouring into Fenris’. “Am _I_ going to die?”

Fenris had seen Hawke in a multitude of situations, many of them with abysmal outcomes, but never before had he seen the man so frightened. 

“No,” he answered as if he were a stubborn god. “No, you’re not allowed to die on me. You know that.” 

“Anders?” Hawke asked, his voice so weak that every time he spoke, Fenris cringed. 

Anders paused his work and looked up at his friend, the needle literally sticking out of skin mid-suture. “You’re talking. Dead people don’t talk in my experience.” 

It was such a roundabout answer that Fenris couldn’t even be mad about it. 

“That’s—I wanna know. If I am going to. Tell me if I’m going to. _Please_. Fenris, I don’t—”

Fenris moved closer, kissing Hawke’s forehead. He was never very good at offering comfort, mostly due to lack of opportunity. Being with Hawke had been a learning curve in multiple ways, affection being one of the main contenders. But he tried, Hawke deserved that. 

“Shhh. You’re alright.” Fenris ran his fingers through Hawke’s hair in a nonsense pattern. It’s what Garrett did whenever Fenris woke up from a nightmare and adamantly refused to go back to sleep. He had scoffed at it at first, stating venomously that he was not a dog. But that argument quickly died once Fenris gave in to someone wanting to show him affection. Someone genuinely caring if he lived or died. 

It’s funny how those things went both ways. 

Anders must have found a reason to use magic as the glowing from his hands grew, and with it Hawke’s sounds of protest and fresh pain. He groaned, trying and failing to push himself up the bed and away from the healer’s touch. 

“Don’t make me restrain you,” Fenris stated. 

“You can if—” Hawke let out a wet cough. “— it’s the sexy way.” 

The mere corners of Fenris’ lips turned upwards. “It will absolutely not be the sexy way. Not for a while at least.” 

“I swear if you two even think about sex within the next month I will kill you myself. Those stitches are beautiful and I will not have you ripping them, Garrett.” Anders pulled away, washing his hands in the basin placed beside the bed. The water tinged pink in small puffs. He then went through his little kit, pulling out various bottles. How he could decipher the tiny scrawling on each, Fenris didn’t know but soon enough he handed over two. 

“I’m going to go find some tea. Let me know if you need anything.” 

The mage _did_ look like he needed caffeine and Fenris didn’t generally enjoy his company. At all. Ever. But they had been cordial to each other these last few hours. As such, Fenris nodded in compliance and waited until the door was closed to pull the corks loose from the vials. With one hand, he supported Hawke’s neck enough so he wouldn’t choke. As soon as the glass touched his lips, Hawke hesitated. 

“This will put me to sleep. I don’t want to. What if I don’t wake up?” His sentences were fragmented with hard breaths, less suave than normal but they were still _words_. Words coming from an alive Hawke’s mouth. Something Fenris promised himself he’d never take for granted again. 

“You will. I will be at your side the whole time. You have my vow.” 

That was seemingly enough as Hawke allowed the concoction to go into his mouth. Fenris followed the second in quick succession before any other protests could be made. Both contained a large amount of elfroot if the stringent smell meant anything. 

Good. The last thing anyone needed was for Hawke to get a fever or infection, that would be a nightma— 

“I love you,” Hawke’s words pulled Fenris from his mind mid thought. His eyelids were drooping, fighting a losing battle against sleep, but staring at the elf. As if Hawke couldn’t rest until he heard Fenris’ response: that he was loved back. And he was. How could Fenris love any other idiot? 

“I love you as well, Hawke.”

“Good. That’s good,” Garrett mumbled, looking satisfied as he finally gave in to a painless, drug induced slumber. 

It had been a long night and the remaining hours likely would move just as slowly. Fenris was okay with that, as long as Garrett would wake to see the dawn again.

And he would. Of that, Fenris had no doubt.   
  



End file.
